


Like what.

by destielpasta



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Domesticity, F/M, Kissing, POV Alternating, Stream of Consciousness, analyzing each other, falling in love in bad circumstances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielpasta/pseuds/destielpasta
Summary: June and Nick watch each other. A lot.***Takes place sometime in Season 1.





	Like what.

He doesn’t taste good. 

Nick tastes like cigarettes and the shit they pass off as coffee when there’s a shortage. Like fear and side-eyes. 

My favorite moment is when I lie in bed, trying to forget where I am, and he stands half-inside and half-outside, watching for guards or for anyone flipping the light on in my room. When they find me fucking someone illegally. He blows smoke out of the corner of his mouth to keep it from coming inside. The wind blows it back, but he tries. 

Oh, he  _ tries.  _

He wants me to forget, for a moment, that my life is a fucked up mess. Sometimes he says  _ give yourself a minute _ when I try to get up and leave. Not  _ stay,  _ not  _ don’t go _ , but  _ give yourself a minute.  _ Let yourself forget. 

I can’t, but he tries. 

I ask  _ what kind of music did you listen to before _ ? He shrugs, half smiling.  _ Not much. A buddy of mine had a country band. They sucked.  _ That was his way. Talk about everyone but himself. But that’s ok, I can fall in love with other things. His eyes. The way his fingers lace with mine. The way he teases Rita with just a raise of an eyebrow. How he holds me like he never wants to let go. It was always so easy for me to fall in love. 

I’m sitting on the floor, trying to stretch my aching muscles in just my shorts. They don’t tell you how sedentary the handmaid’s life is. So much of my day is spent lying still, trying not to cause trouble, and my muscles protest. They’re used to running. 

He pulls me up, rubbing my arms as if I just said I was cold. But I get it, I want to memorize him too. It’s almost time to go, and he angles his face toward mine. 

He tastes like home. 

*

*

*

I can still taste her, even after she leaves. 

My hand rests on my gun, when June walks back to the house, as if I could do something to help her. As if I could backflip off of the staircase and shoot the guardian that catches her coming out of the garage. 

I don’t know, maybe I could. 

I don’t have to, at least not yet. She’s fast, even in the red dress. She cuts through the backyard, leaving no trace. 

She’s soft now, but I can tell she wasn’t soft before. Sometimes she jumps out of my arms and starts jogging in place, like she can’t stand to be in her skin anymore. She stretches on the floor, pretzel-poses like one of those yoga girls from before. She says it helps with all the naps she’s required to take. 

I want to listen to her. She’s a gifted storyteller, a book editor, did she write books herself before? I should ask her. I have to ask her a lot of things. 

(Before the inevitable.) 

I don’t though. I look at her, touch her, but I don’t talk enough. I know I’ll regret it, God knows I don’t have enough regrets. 

She’d laugh at that. Or hit my arm and refuse to laugh. Either way, I’d see her smile. That’s enough for the moment. It’s enough to keep me from telling her that I fell in love with her at the end of the world. I don’t know if she’d forgive me for that. 

It’s time to go, she stands up from the floor, rolling her neck back and forth. I pull her into my arms, and she holds me back, her hands curling into fists against my sides. 

She tastes like freedom. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Handmaid’s Tale fandom just your you local bisexual here writing about these two sad souls. I’m a guest here so be gentle, but send me requests if you want more nick/June fic. I need ideas.


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